


Souls of Dust

by impatient14



Series: Animal Rights Series [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcoholism, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Happy Endings are my thing, M/M, No one stays dead in Supernatural, Suicidal Thoughts, dean and cas being broken and destroyed, dean and cas being domestic and cute
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-01
Updated: 2015-10-28
Packaged: 2018-04-24 05:38:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4907473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impatient14/pseuds/impatient14
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Picking up six months after Hearts of Glass ends, Dean, Cas, and Gabriel are living a life on the run. Cas writes in motel rooms while Dean and Gabriel find odd jobs to keep them fed. A call from an old friend though, leads them down  a dangerous chain of events, that brings Dean to where we find him in the future. Off the wagon and working for Lucifer, find out what brought Dean to this place, and how it is he plans to escape.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> As always, Chapter titles are songs. The lyrics will pertain to a character in the chapter, it will not always be Dean or Cas, so keep your mind open as you listen.
> 
> This is my first attempt at multiple timelines. I hope it works!  
> I will mark each chapter in the past (where our boys are all together) as ~Then~ and each one in the present (where Dean is with Lucifer) as ~Now~. If there is no note before the chapter, it means it is a continuation of the same timeline as the chapter before.
> 
> To be updated weekly. Probably Tuesday or Wednesday nights.
> 
> Please let me know what you think as you read!

~Now~

Water drips loudly from the pipe next to my cot, and it pulls me out of unconsciousness.

I hear it fall into the collected puddle, and think of the ocean I haven’t seen in almost two years.  
I open my eyes slowly, and wait for the assault of the light from down the hall, to butcher my head open.

It comes on, just as expected, and I wince and put my hands to my temples, pushing on them to relieve some of the tension there. One hand gropes the floor next to the stuffed piece of fabric I sleep on, and as soon as my hand slips around the familiar glass bottle, I let out a small sigh of relief. The cap is still off from the night before, and I lift my head just enough to take three large gulps of the stinging amber liquid. 

I fall back to the cot, and close my eyes again, hoping to fall back asleep.

Sleep doesn’t come though, and soon the fluorescent lights above the sink flick to life. 

8:00am.

The fluorescents buzz above my head, like miniature bombs exploding every other millisecond. 

My own special alarm clock. 

I groan and pull myself up again, but this time I swing my legs over the side and scoot back to rest my back against the wall. The bottle of whiskey on the floor somehow makes its way back into my hand, and I begin my day how I ended my night.

Ten minutes later, the bottle is nearly empty, but I can’t feel a thing.

I stagger to my feet and go to the toilet to take a piss. The momentarily relief of it, confuses my body enough to think it is satisfied, but my brain quickly sets it straight.

After I’m finished, I step over to the sink and place my hands on either side of it. I keep my eyes trained on the faucet, and wash my hands and face, never glancing up to catch my reflection.

I don’t know why he put a mirror in here, it’s not like I can stand to look at myself anymore. 

Then again, that is probably the exact reason he put it in here.

Just another way to torture me. 

I hear footsteps coming towards my cell, and I swallow back any remnants of fear, the man I used to be would have felt. 

The footsteps grow closer, and I turn around to pick up the bottle of whiskey once more. I drain it before he gets to my cell, but I still hold it in my hands when he stops in front of the door, and leans against the bars.

“Morning, sunshine.” 

Lucifer smiles at me, and if I could manage any expression other than cold detachment, I would probably give him that cocky smirk I learned years ago. 

“Big day.” He says through the bars, looking at me with calculated amusement.

“Better get to it then.” I reply, just as I have ever other day.

I turn away from him, just for the simple fact that I used to hate watching him open the cell. I cling to the ritual of my distaste at the action, even if it no longer brings me pain. It’s as if its the last shred of who I was, and I am stupid enough to want to hold on to it.

I used to cry when he put me back in at night. It wasn’t long though, until I relished returning to my cell, blood and sweat soaking my body. The tears, trained to be dry and silent, would then only come when I was brought out.

Now, though... 

Now I feel nothing.

Once I hear his footsteps behind me, I am reminded of the choice I make every day. 

The choice to do as I am told, instead of breaking the bottle of whiskey Lucifer keeps giving me, and slitting my wrists with the glass.

The choice to become a person I no longer care to recognize, to protect the ones I love the most.


	2. Latch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ~THEN~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Latch- Sam Smith (ACOUSTIC version- trust me :) )

My eyelids are heavy; and my mind is fuzzy. 

Sleep still pulls at my edges, coaxing me back into the dreams that have already started to muddle.

I feel warm, too warm really, but my body has found probably the most comfortable position I have woken up in a very long time. 

Six months sleeping in random motel rooms and backwoods B&B’s have begun to really irritate my back, but this particular mattress feels amazing this morning.

I shift slightly, just enough to pull my head back from it’s resting place in the crook of Cas’ neck. My arm is slung around his waist, and I can feel the steady rise and fall of his abdomen as he continues to sleep soundly. The curtains are pulled closed, so there is no light to help tell me what time it might be, but it feels like it is a pretty reasonable time of day to get up. 

I feel pretty rested, despite my comfortableness telling me to pull Cas closer and fall back asleep. 

I have a job to get to today though, so I really should start moving. 

I open my eyes slowly, and my lips immediately curl into a smile at the first thing I see. 

Cas has his head turned towards me, his face a picture of serenity as he sleeps. The bruise he acquired the previous week is yellowing now, and the memory of how he acquired it makes me snicker softly. 

He was running his mouth, as per usual, and the object of his verbal assault decided to get physical. Gabe and I stepped in, and pulled the guy off, but in all honestly, I don’t blame the guy for losing it. Cas had pulled his perceptive asshole shtick on the guy, and informed him not so tactfully, that his wife was fucking their babysitter. 

How Cas knew this after a three minute conversation with the guy, I’ll never know, but then again, that’s just one of those things about Cas that I have learned not to question too much. 

Sometimes he will enlighten me with how he knows certain things, other times though I am left to figure it out for myself.

It doesn’t bother me though, Cas is...just Cas, and I wouldn’t change him even if I could.

Okay, maybe I would change one or two things.

Like how he brushes his teeth in the middle of the motel room and lets his mouth fill with toothpaste froth and then tries to hold a conversation. 

I could do without that.

Or how he taps out the beat to a completely different song than the one playing in the car, on my thigh as we drive. 

There was also, of course, the inconvenience of having my baby reupholstered so that the leather was taken out and replaced with the fake stuff. That took most of the money in my bank account, but Cas refused to get back in it until it was done. He paid for all the motel rooms until I got a few jobs on the road, though.

Then there was Gabe, who always got his own motel room, but rarely used it to do anything other than sleep or fuck some random guys he picked up God knows where. 

I thought being on the road with both of them would be more trying, that we would fight or bicker about stupid shit more often, but there hasn’t been much of that. Cas and Gabe trade insults regularly, but that was nothing new. 

We all seem to work pretty well together.

We trade driving shifts in my car, rotate buying food, and everyone chips in for gas. 

When we stop at our pre-mapped out, ‘pop up’ places, we trade off who’s real credit card we use so we can set as many fake trails as possible if Lucifer were to come looking for us. Cas set us up with a few fake credit cards too, and I don’t love the idea of committing credit card fraud, but it’s better than leading a psycho right to our real locations. 

The news has been pretty silent on his whereabouts,which either means the FBI is closing in and wants to keep it silent, or they have jack shit. 

We, of course, are hoping for the former.

Cas mumbles something in his sleep, and my smile grows wider. I nuzzle in and kiss his cheek softly, hoping to wake him softly and avoid the grouchiest mother fucker on earth. 

When I shift closer though, I feel something behind me in the bed shift as well, and I shriek like a small child as I jump out of my skin and whip around to see what is in bed with us. 

I hear a cacophony of curses in both ears as I turn to face Gabe, who is rubbing his eyes and rolling over away from me.

“Jesus, Dean-o.” Gabe speaks into a pillow, his voice thick with sleep. “I have an alarm set, didn’t really need that wake up call.”

“Gabe.” I say slowly, my bewilderment slightly overcoming my irritation. “What the fuck man?”

I feel Cas sit up in bed next to me and look over at Gabe. I turn my gaze to Cas, who just shrugs and falls back into bed. “You said you would be up for-”

“Not with him!” I cut Cas off as Gabe turns his head and rises slowly off the pillow at Cas’ words. He wiggles his eyebrows and smirks coyly.

“You two looking for a third?” 

“What?” I stammer. “No, that’s not-” My head is shaking, but Gabe has already turned back over and no one is even paying attention to me anymore. I fall back into bed and resign myself to the moment. “Why aren’t you in your own bed?”

“I was lonely.” He says through a yawn. “And the news last night said Luc was spotted in Topeka last week.”

Cas’ gravely, sleep soaked voice grumbles next to me. “So. That’s where we sent him.”

Gabe doesn’t say anything else, but I know what he is feeling.

All this time with no word, no clue as to what Lucifer was up to, and now he shows up in the last place Cas used his real credit card. That only means one thing.

Lucifer has officially begun the hunt after us, and whether our plan to thwart him is working or not, it doesn’t change the fact that we are his priority right now.

“He won’t find us.” Cas says next to me, his hand intertwining with mine silently. “Now either reconsider your stance on this threesome, or go back to sleep.”

***

 **Queen of Moondor:** _You up yet? I want to skype before my shift._

 **Dean:** Yeah, but can’t skype now. Headed to a job. Tonight?

 **Queen of Moondor:** Fine. I miss your ugly faces though.

 **Dean:** Nice. We miss you too Charlie.

 **Queen of Moondor:** What job did you manage to get this time?

 **Dean:** Dry wall installation. Five days of work, not bad.

 **Queen of Moondor:** Gabe too?

 **Dean:** Gabe is a no go.  
**Dean:** The guy staple gunned his thumbs together at the last job we had.  
**Dean:** Don’t ask me how.  
**Dean:** He said he set something up though, so he has worked the last few nights.

 **Queen of Moondor:** What is he doing?

 **Dean:** I am not stupid enough to ask that question Charlie, and you shouldn't be either.

 **Queen of Moondor:** Good point.

 **Dean:** I got to go, Cas is bitching about directions. 

**Queen of Moondor:** He has the worst sense of direction.

 **Dean:** : Yeah, I never would have guessed...  
**Dean:** Talk to you tonight.

 **Queen of Moondor:** Later gator

 

****

“Foreman said I should be done by five.” I turn to Cas in the drivers seat. “Will you remember to pick me up this time?”

Cas gives me a look through his eye lashes. “I was writing. You know how I get-”

“Yeah, yeah. In the zone and all that.” I smile and give him an affectionate look, despite the very real irritation I felt at having to wait over an hour for Cas to remember to pick me up the last time he drove me to a job. 

I look out the window to the house I will be working at today, and see a couple guys standing around a white van, talking casually.

“Well, be nice to the other kids sweetie.” Cas says in a coyingly sweet tone. “Maybe they will play with you at recess.”

“Cute.” I instinctually lean forward to peck his lips, but then pull back just before I make it over there. I know it’s stupid to care what these men think, but I am not anxious to share this part of myself with a group of men I have to work with over the next few days, without knowing anything about them first. 

Cas, of course, picks up on my hesitation, and just as I am about to apologize he puts up his hand to stop me. “It’s fine.” His features tell the same story his words do, and I smile in response.

“See you later.” I say before opening the door. “Maybe remember to eat something today.”

Cas says nothing, but I hear him click his tongue at my jab as I pull myself out of my car and onto the sidewalk in front of the house. I close the door, and Cas drives away as soon as I turn towards the men waiting in the driveway.

There’s two of them, both leaning against the truck and shooting the shit. One of them smokes a cigarette that smells kind of like burned oranges, and another spits tobacco into the grass.

Probably not the best fertilizer.

I walk up confidently, wanting to make a strong first impression. “Morning.” I say as I reach them, nodding my head slightly in greeting. “I’m Mike.”

The one spitting chew gives me the once over and nods in return. He is tall and thin, with an austere set to his jaw, but his eyes do not hold the same edge. They are softer, and if I had to take a guess, I would say even kind. “Hey ya, Mike.” The man holds out a hand for me to shake. “I’m Zeke.”

I give the guy a firm handshake, and a thin smile. When he lets go, I keep my hand up and offer it to the smoker next to him. He is about the same height, but more muscular. His eyes are harder, too, like they’ve seen more things than they should’ve, and some of the hairs on the back of my neck go straight.

“Cole.” He says finally, after taking my hand and pumping it once with his own. He keeps the cigarette between his lips as he digs through his pockets. “Hold up.” He fishes out his phone, which I can now hear vibrating in his hand. He answers it with an exhale of smoke. 

“Yeah.”

While Cole listens to whoever is on the other end, I look back to Zeke who has turned around and is looking at the house we were to be working in today.

“She’s a big one, huh?” 

It takes me a second but I catch on to his train of thought, and take a step to stand beside him. I look up at the house, and shrug a little. “Yeah, guess so.”

It’s a modest colonial, with red shudders and a black front door with gold plated hardware. If I had to guess, the house has probably four bedrooms, five if there is a finished basement. I’ve seen bigger in the suburbs of Boston, but keep that bit of information to myself.

“Been laying drywall long?” Zeke asks me, turning slightly to face me

“Not too long.” I say casually. The truth of course is that I’ve only done this a couple times, and it was always as a favor to friends who couldn't afford to pay for it. Charlie doubled as my prior experience reference though, and the foreman didn’t look too hard at my resume. Temporary work like this, doesn’t usually require much more than a reference and a handshake. “What about you?”

“Off and on for a couple years now.” Zeke looks back at the house and nods towards it. “Nothing as big as this one though. Boss says the owners gutted it themselves when they bought it, but couldn't finish the job.” Zeke shakes his head and gives me a half smile. “Good news for us, huh?”

I give a nod in agreement, and turn back around as I hear Cole end his conversation. He takes a long drag of his cigarette, then blows out a large waft of smoke as he puts the butt out on the rubber sole of his boot.

“Henry is running a little late, said we should go ahead and get started. The owners are supposed to be out of town. Password to the garage is 0401.”

“Alright, then. Let’s get moving.” Zeke says beside me, moving towards the van and opening the door on the side. He starts grabbing equipment, and I fall in line behind him, filling my arms with supplies as soon as he steps out of the way.

Cole walks over to the garage, presumably to enter the code and open it, while I stack boxes of nails on top of the toolbox already resting in my arms.

I can hear Zeke’s heavy boots on the driveway in front of the van, and the grumble of the garage door as it springs to life and begins to open.

I am struggling to balance too many things in my arms, when I hear a sharp gasp and a loud clatter of equipment falling to the asphalt.

The door to the van blocks my vision, but I can sort of see Zeke and Cole both standing stock still through the door’s window, Zeke’s hands free of everything he was holding moments before.

Confused, I walk around the door of the van. 

I expect to hear laughter next, maybe even Zeke making fun of himself for being so clumsy. 

Instead, once I get around the van door and walk a few paces towards the house, I get an unobstructed view of what caused Zeke to stop so suddenly and lose function of his arms.

There, in the garage of a possibly four bedroom colonial home, in the suburbs of Boulder, Colorado, is two dead bodies, hanging from the ceiling.


	3. Conspiracy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Conspiracy- Paramore
> 
> A bonus before next week's update because I felt bad I left off on a cliffhanger.

Their toes just barely graze the concrete of the garage floor, and their heads hang down and to the side. A man and a woman, both of their eyes open and bulging slightly, the pallor of their skin a pasty, almost blue color.

My first thought is that I’ve never seen a dead body before, but I immediately realize how wrong that is.

Lisa’s body wasn’t the first, having lived on the streets of Boston long enough to have seen some things I wish I hadn’t, and she wasn’t the last either. After the showdown with Lucifer at the farm, Uriel was actually the last dead body I saw.

Now, it’s these two. 

“Shit.” One of the other men says, I don’t know which one. Actually, it could of been me, but I don’t really know anyway to tell at this point. I do have enough faculties to set down the supplies in my arms, rather than letting them fall to the ground, but there is not much more I am capable of.

“What the fuck?!” Cole nearly yells. His hands run through his hair and his eyes bug out of his head. He moves forward, like he intends to do something about what is waiting for us in the garage, but stops short and runs the other way instead. Just as he makes it to the bushes of the dead couple’s front yard, Cole doubles over and vomits. 

Zeke turns abruptly to me, and his face is not what I expect.

He doesn’t look scared at all, more confused than anything else.

Over the sounds of Cole emptying the contents of his stomach, I hear Zeke stutter over his words before speaking more clearly. “What, how did this...” He trails off, looking at me for a long moment as if I have the answers he is looking for.

My eyes flick back towards the dead couple, because for some reason I am not freaking out the way I know I should, and I’m betting that may be the source of Zeke’s confusion.

“We need to call the police.” I say calmly, swallowing back anything else that tries to escape. I dig the burner I bought at a gas station a week ago out of my pocket, and dial 911.

A man’s voice comes through on the line, and it takes me a few seconds to realize he has asked me a question.

“911, What is the state of your emergency?”

“Yeah, I’m uh, at 152 Potter’s Grove Lane in Boulder. There’s....” I trail off, not knowing how to describe the situation exactly. 

“Yes, sir? What is it you wish to report?” The voice is calm, completely devoid of the emotion I feel curling in my gut and pushing me closer towards Cole’s current preoccupation.

My mouth goes dry as I form my answer. 

“Murder...I think.” I almost whisper out, my eyes going to Zeke’s who has gone into the garage and is looking around the feet of the dead bodies. “There’s two bodies hanging from the garage ceiling.”

“A patrol unit is on the way sir. Can I have your name please?” The voice is still calm, like I didn’t just tell him there is dead people swinging in front of me. 

“De-” 

Shit.

“Mike. Mike Brakefield.” I say as casually as I can. “Me and a couple other guys came for a construction job. Found the bodies just a few minutes ago.”

“Please stay where you are, and wait for the police to arrive.” The man says, though, I can barely hear him now.

My head is swimming, and I feel like I’m the one who is having the life strangled out of him. 

Zeke is bending down, picking up something he found below the bodies. 

I step closer, the voice in my ear only a vacant buzz. My hand even falls from beside my ear, and the cell phone is now pressed slightly against my thigh. I don’t know why I have this reaction, but there is just something wrong with the way Zeke is holding the paper, something off about the way he-

Sirens in the distance pull my attention from Zeke, and I look off in the direction I can hear them coming from. I bring the phone back to my ear and hear the man asking me if I am still there.

“Yeah. Sorry.” I answer absently, still barely listening.

“Police will be there momentarily, please do not disturb the scene.” The man says, still in his calm, detached tone that tells me this is definitely not the first time he has fielded a call like this.

“Okay.” I turn back to the garage, and find Zeke walking towards me no sign of the paper he had been holding before. I look behind him, to see if he had left it on the floor, but I don’t see it there either.

My eyebrows scrunch together in confusion, and I lift my hand to cover the mouthpiece of the phone.

“Did you just take that?” I whisper. “Not supposed to touch anything, man.”

Zeke’s face is unreadable, and he just shakes his head slightly. 

I am about to ask him what the hell he was doing, when the sirens of a police car blare closer.

I turn my head in their direction, and watch as a patrol car comes up and parks nearly in he middle of the street. There are more sirens in he distance, and I assume an ambulance is not far behind them.

No point though, the bodies are already starting to smell.

Cole walks up behind us, and stops beside Zeke. “Shit.”

“Yeah.” I agree, because what else can I say?

This is complete and total shit.

Not only is there two dead people in the garage, which is definitely horrible and I am just barely holding myself together on that respect alone, but there is also the whole thing where I am using a fake ID and credit cards, and am currently being approached by police officers.

Then of course, there is the fact that the guy standing next to me definitely tampered with the crime scene somehow, and I don’t know whether or not I should call him out on it. 

I give Zeke the side eye for a second, but then turn my attention back to the man and woman in black uniforms coming towards us.

I unceremoniously hang up on the operator, and take a step forward.

“They’re in the garage.” I say, my voice slightly off pitch and shaking slightly. 

That’s good. 

Innocent people with nothing to hide always sound like they are about to piss themselves.

Awesome.

The police officers didn’t seem to notice my issue though, barely giving us each the once over before passing us and walking up the driveway to the garage.

I take this as my opportunity to either confront Zeke or decide to let it go.

I think about every possible outcome of this conversation, trying desperately to channel Cas and his mind reading skills. As subtly as possible, I look for any clues about Zeke that could lead me to an answer without having to say a word.

I take in his clothes first, but find nothing out of the ordinary about his worn jeans and white t-shirt. He’s got a pair of work boots on, that look like they could have just come out of the box this morning. That strikes me as odd, seeing as how this guy said he takes jobs like this regularly. 

Zeke turns around and looks after the cops, his eyes squinting in the sunlight and watching the police officers’ every move. His hand goes up to hover over his eyes, blocking the sun. I follow the movement with my eyes, and land on the perfectly manicured nails that sit at the end of each of his fingers.

Also strange.

My eyes travel down to where there is a few small brown stains at the neckline of his white T-shirt, and their source has me stumped all of two seconds before Zeke pulls a can of dip out and flicks it open. 

The stains were from spitting his chew. 

Which is also pretty damn weird, unless he just learned how to spit tobacco this morning too.

I swallow hard and try to steady my breathing, which has increased rapidly as I dissect every detail of Zeke’s outward appearance. He notices, of course, because I am not really the stealthy type, but instead of looking away when he turns to look at me, I keep my gaze hard on him.

“You want to tell me what the hell that was about?” I say under my breath, and Cole turns sharply in my direction. I don’t really care if he hears, but I want to keep the cops out of this for now.

“What?” Zeke says innocently, his shoulders shrugging. “What are you-”

“Cut the shit.” I say, taking a step closer to him. “What’s your angle here? I know you aren’t here for the job, or at least not this job.”

Zeke’s eyes grow wide and he takes a step back, his arms going up in defense. “Hey man, I don’t know what you’re thinking, but I just showed up like the both of you. I don’t know what you’re-”

“Shut-up.” I say through my teeth. Cole steps between us then, and puts his hands up. 

“What's going on here?” Cole’s eyes dart between us, and Zeke takes another step back. 

“This guy is all wrong buddy.” I say, pointing my hand out towards Zeke. “The shoes, the nails, the stains. It’s all wrong.” I shake my head and drop my hand. 

Cole eyes me suspiciously, then turns his attention to Zeke. “What's he going on about?”

Zeke’s eye grow wide again, and shakes his head. “Man, I have no idea.”

I am debating whether to admit that maybe I got some things wrong here, or just go for it and barrel through Cole to beat the truth out of this fucker, when the cops come up behind us.

“Is there a problem?” The female police officer is holding a pad of paper and a pen in her hands and looking between us with a look of caution on her face. I see an ambulance and another cop car pull up beside the house out of the corner of my eye, and the policewoman waves the others over.

“You mean besides the two dead bodies in the garage?” Zeke answers, his voice much deeper than it was moments before. 

The police woman eyes him a second longer, then just tells us to stay put so she can take our statements before walking past us to her car.

I consider what just happened for a moment, thinking over reasons why Zeke wouldn’t tell the officer the truth about what was just happening between us. 

The only thing I can come up with though, is that he doesn’t want attention on him any more than I do. 

Which tells me, even if I haven’t a clue what it means, Zeke is definitely not who he says he is.

 

***

 

“We have to leave.”

Gabe’s hand is behind his neck, and his arm rests on the table in the motel room.

“This stinks of him. He knows we’re here, he is leaving us a message-”

“Coincidence.” Cas interrupts. “I’d bet Dean’s baby on it.”

My eyebrows shoot to the roof and I balk loudly. “You’ll do no such thing.” 

I consider his words though, and tilt my head in his direction. “What makes you think that?”

Cas shrugs and sips his beer. He is leaning against a stack of pillows at the head of our bed, and staring up at me as I pace the motel room. “Murders happen all the time Dean, its far more probable that these people were murdered by someone else.”

Gabe pipes up from the table. “What about the note that guy pocketed? That’s some weird shit, Cassie.”

Cas shrugs again. “Perhaps Dean didn’t see what he thought he did.”

I don’t stop my movements, but I do shoot Cas a glare. “I know what I saw, Cas. The guy is dirty.”

“What happened after you talked to the cops?” Gabe asks, pouring himself a glass of water.

“He was gone by the time I finished giving my statement.” I rake my hands through my hair and pull at my neck. “I shouldn’t have let him get by like that, I should have-”

“What?” Cas chuckles behind his beer bottle. “Citizen’s arrest? Invited him over for dinner? Come on Dean, what were you going to do?”

I take a few steps towards the bed and glare down at Cas. “Listen, I know what I saw. I know what I got from him. The guy was not the regular construction job type. He was lying, I can feel it.”

Cas gives me a placating look, and it makes my blood boil. I turn to Gabe, whose expression looks much more convinced.

“What do _you_ think?” I ask him, giving Cas my back completely.

Gabe looks between us for a second, then wavers slightly. “I...I think we should just go. I mean, say Dean is right, why the fuck is this guy at the same job as Dean, and at a fucking murder scene no less? Something is not right here, we should just-”

Cas rolls his eyes and clamors from the bed. “Fine.” He turns his beer bottle up and takes the last bit in a large gulp. “If it’ll get your lingerie out of your ass Gabriel, fine. We’ll leave in the morning.”

Gabe gives Cas an annoyed look. “Lovely. So glad to have your support.”

“Not support Gabriel, pity.” Cas gives him a blank look, then turns to me, the corners of his lips lifting into a smirk.

I both love and hate that look.

I hate it because he knows that even though he is agreeing to leave, he has still won the moment, and that is always the most important thing to my arrogant lover. I hate it because it is a reminder that, in general, Cas will always find a way to be right, to be the last man standing. 

Doesn’t matter what it is, or who it’s with, it is very rare that Cas will let anyone else get the last word, even in silence. 

I love it though, too. That smirk that brightens his eyes and causes the lines around his lips to deepen slightly, because its reminder of how alive this man makes me feel. That smirk, that cocky beautiful smile, is the first thing that struck me stupid when I met Cas. It’s the first thing that haunted my dreams and dominated my thoughts. I used to lie awake imagining what it would taste like, what it would feel like to destroy it with my lips. 

Anyone else looking at a smirk like that, might see darkness, but I see only light. I only see the passion and emotion behind it. 

I swallow all of this back though, and glare in response, because I know exactly what that smirk means in this moment, and I’ll be damned if Cas is getting off that easy for being such a dick.

Cas however, just strides towards me slowly completely unaffected by my harsh look and keeps his eyes on mine. I stand my ground, knowing Cas wouldn't make a move while Gabe is sitting only a couple of feet away. 

Sure, there have been a few times Gabe has caught us going at it in various places. Its not always easy to find a place to have sex when you’re always on the road, sometimes the bathroom stall at a truck stop or the backseat of the car is the best we can manage. 

But in general, Cas and I aren’t really the PDA type.   
Cas’ eyes though, and the way they are raking over my body, did not seem to get the memo about public displays.

He stops only inches from me, and I can see Gabe out of the corner of my eye narrowing his gaze at us. 

Cas keeps his eyes on me, but turns his head slightly, so his words are thrown over his shoulder at Gabe.

“I’m going to give you ten seconds to leave Gabriel, and then the mood in here is going to shift dramatically.”


	4. I Can See For Miles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ~NOW~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I Can See for Miles- The Who
> 
>  
> 
> Sorry for the wait, been busy with life stuff. You know how that goes...

~Now~  
Sometimes, right before the whiskey makes me black out, I see her face again.

It’s been so long since I thought about Lisa, because I know exactly what she would think, and I can’t handle disappointing another person I care about. But, I can’t control where my mind goes right before it falls down the rabbit hole. 

Usually it’s Cas’ face I see. I see him staring at me with wide, accusatory eyes, his lips cursing me a traitor. Other times he will just look sad and betrayed in his recliner back home, and the alcohol forces me to see just how much I let him down.

Lisa though, Lisa only appears on the nights I sleep with blood on my hands.

Whether I am too drunk or too broken to wash them before I fall on to my cot, I don’t know, but those are the nights I see her.

Last night, was one of those nights.

The blood is dried and sticky on my hands, and when I pull myself out of bed to take a piss, I don’t bother washing them before wrapping my fingers around my dick to steady my stream.

No point in washing them twice.

When I’m finished relieving myself, I go to the sink to begin the clean up process.

It’s not just my hands that are covered in blood.

I’ve got it spattered up my arms and down my neck. I strip off the red stained t-shirt, and lather up my hands in the sink. 

Today isn’t shower day, so this will have to do. 

I wash away the blood and the stink of my alcoholism that seeps through every pore.

I drink enough to fall asleep every night, but not enough that I can’t do my job. 

He makes sure of that.

Heavy, rubber soled foot steps echo down the hall, and I splash some water on my face before stepping away from the sink. I go to the trunk at the foot of my cot, and open it.

I pull out some clean clothes and change out of my blood soaked ones.

There is movement outside my cell, but I ignore it while I pull on my jeans.

“Slow down Magic Mike, I’m enjoying the show.”

Meg Masters.

Her voice is velvet, but her tongue is nothing but barbed wire.

It’s strange, but the mornings she comes instead of him, I feel somewhat grateful.

With Lucifer, I never know what version of him I am going to get. The cold, calculating psychopath, who just last week made me watch him skin a secret service agent for information; or the manipulatively soft spoken man whose sky blue eyes shine as they spin their lies.

But with Meg, it’s always the same.

She is sarcastic, blunt, and generally disinterested in anything that isn’t her. 

I ignore her jab, and finish getting dressed, giving her my back as I do. 

When I’m done, I turn to watch her open the cell door and gesture her hand to the side, signaling me to head out.

“Your ticket is full today, sunshine.” She says with a smirk as I pass her. “Big guy wants a location by the end of the week.”

I don’t respond, there really isn't any point. She knows I am going to do what I have to, just as I have for the last year. 

My work boots are heavy on the concrete hallway, and my eyes stay trained forward. 

The hallway is narrow, with grey cement blocks crowding me as I walk to the door at the end of it. 

The first time I walked through that door, it was six weeks after I agreed to come here. 

Despite my willingness to join him, Lucifer wanted to “break me in,” as he called it. 

That first six weeks was spent in complete solitude. My meals were put through a slat in the wall, and I never got a response when I   
yelled out to whoever sent it through. I got a change of clothes every three days or so, and a bar of soap after my first week inside. 

At the end of it, Lucifer himself showed up at the cell door, a soft smile on his face and bottle of whiskey in his hand.

I would be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about taking a drink pretty much as soon as I entered my new home. I was all but begging for it by the time I got the soap.

When he came in my cell that day, the first thing he did was place that bottle on the floor next to my cot. He stared down at it for a long time, then looked back to me.

“A privilege.” He had said, eyeing me for another moment before leaving me alone once more.

I didn’t even hesitate.

I wish I could say that I did, that I stared the bottle down first, or held it in my hand for a very long time before opening it.

But I didn't.

I practically raced to it.

I knew if I was going to get through this, I would need an escape.

There was no way for me to know though, what exactly I would be escaping from every night when I black out. 

I sometimes think about that innocence, that naivety that led me to agree to this arrangement in the first place. I was so sure I could do this, that I could be this person if it meant saving everyone else. I believed that I could delve into Lucifer’s world and come out the other end the same man that entered. A man not broken or destroyed by his time spent here.

A man still worth loving.

Now, nearly two years after turning that whiskey bottle up and chugging down more than any man’s fair share, I know no one could ever love me again.

Not anymore.

~~~ 

 

I lead us through the door, and into a second hallway, this one is littered with doors and ends in a wide staircase. There is a full bathroom in the first one to the right, and a small kitchen in the one to the left. 

After the first year, when I left the chair and began working, I was permitted to leave my cell at certain times to shower or make my own meals. Someone would always be around, lingering nearby while I was out of my cell, but no one ever bothered me. Lucifer said it was a promotion, a show of trust on his part. 

Of course, his trust was severely misplaced. 

Lucifer didn’t know the truth of why I stayed in that chair for a year rather than begin working for him right away. He thinks I refused to work once I found out what “work” really was, due to my morals. 

He didn’t know it wasn’t conviction that kept me from agreeing to work right away, it was strategy. 

He still doesn’t.

I haven't showered since yesterday morning, but my makeshift bath in the sink this morning will have to do. Besides, any remnants of blood on my skin will probably work in my favor today.

I keep walking, Meg’s boots heavy behind me until her voice speaks over them.

“Four.” She gestures towards a door about halfway down the hall, and walks towards it.

When we get there, Meg leans against the wall beside the door, and raises a set of keys up besides her cheek with a twist of her wrist. “Good luck,” She croons. “He never screams anything useful.”

I swallow back a chuckle that confuses me more than anything else.

Why was that funny? 

Does the fact that some part of me found it funny enough to want to laugh, mean it’s truly over?

Is the man I was, gone for good?

I glare at her, but her lifted brow and devilish smirk tell me she caught my internal struggle.

“Careful handsome, I may start to get the wrong idea.”

“I seriously doubt that.” I snap back before I can stop myself and grab the keys from her hand.

Her smirk broadens into a smile. “He speaks.” Meg pulls herself from the wall and backs away towards the staircase. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell.” She winks at me then turns and walks away, an extra sway in her hips as she does.

I watch her ascend the steps, then turn my gaze back on the steel door in front of me.

The keys used to rattle and shake in my hands when I stood outside these doors, but they are steady now.

Another step in the wrong direction.

I can remember what it felt like to be that man. 

The one terrified of what he was about to do. The man who felt nothing but shame and hatred for what he would do once he entered   
that room. 

Today though, I am no longer that man, and my fingers are strong and sure as they press the keys into the lock and turn the door knob.

I enter the room the way my instructor always did, silently.

I almost always just lean against the door and stare blankly at the opposite wall when I first enter the room. It unnerves the person waiting for me, and sometimes it’s all I have to do to get them to start talking. Mystery is sometimes more frightening than knowing   
what is about to happen to you. You can’t prepare yourself when you don’t know what's coming. Silence can be one of the best interrogation techniques and _thankfully_ , it is still my favorite form of torture.

“Hello?” A man’s voice echoes in the nearly bare, small room. He is strapped to a chair facing away from me, a blindfold over his eyes. “Is someone there?”

I say nothing.

I used to comfort them, saying things like, “Just tell me what I want to know, and I won’t have to hurt you.” 

I used to apologize. 

Now I say almost nothing.

They know why they are here by the time I get to them, there is no need for me to speak.

I wait another long moment, before stepping closer and eyeing the tools laid out for me today. 

Sharps, two days in a row.

I roll my eyes, but still say nothing.

Typically, Lucifer likes to change things up, hit all the major torturing techniques and rotate them often so we don’t get “bored.” 

I move over to the small table where the tools have been laid out for me. 

The man stiffens in his chair. “Listen, I promise I don’t know anything.” He speaks quickly, stumbling over his words as he goes. “I was hired two weeks ago, they haven’t even fully briefed me yet.”

Beads of sweat collect and fall down the man’s temple, and a pang of regret comes and goes as I pick up a scalpel. 

My subject today is younger than some of the others, maybe early or mid twenties. His hair is a black, and by his bone structure I can tell he is of asian dissent. His white shirt is ruffled, with sweat and blood stains decorating it. He is well built, probably 180lbs and around six feet tall gauging by how long his legs are. 

His hands are bound to the armrests of the metal chair that is nailed to the floor. His feet are bound at his ankles, crinkling his black suit pants further.

“Come on, they don’t-”

I bring the scalpel to his cheek and make a swift cut, just to get him to stop talking. Blood trickles down his face and onto his already mucked up white shirt.

He cries out but then does, indeed, shut up.

I hold the scalpel at his neck, but do not press in enough to draw blood again.

“What’s your name?” I ask, calmly and without edge. It took me a long time to sound this way, like I’m completely unaffected by what I’m doing.

“Paul.” His voice shakes slightly, and I pretend I don’t here it. 

“In thirty seconds, I am going to stop talking.” I say quietly. “If you have nothing to tell me by the time I am through, we will begin.” I lean close, so the man can feel my breath on his skin. “Once I have stopped talking, I will not speak again. I will only cut.” I press the scalpel harder into his skin, and feel it give under the blade. “Once I begin to cut, it is very difficult for me to stop, so I suggest not letting me start.” I pull back, removing the blade from his neck and holding it at my side, sliding my thumb over the blade and drawing blood of my own.

I hope this guy is clean.

“Do you understand, Paul?”

“I-I yes, but I don’t know anything!” He screams. “They don’t tell us anything until we have been there longer, I don’t have access to the schedule!” There are tears streaming down his face, and the old me feels it. 

He feels these tears like a shower of nails thundering down from the sky. He hears Paul’s desperation and wants nothing more than to help him. He would rather dig this scalpel into his own chest than hurt his man.

But I am no longer him, and he is no longer me.

So I cut. 

And he screams nothing useful.


	5. I Can't Pretend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ~THEN~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't pretend- Tom Odell

One of the good things about being with a man, instead of a woman, is that feeling of being filled completely. 

I’m sure if I would have ever asked Lisa to strap on a dick and fuck me senseless, she would have done it with a huge smile on her face, but it’s not the same. 

Having Cas inside me, filling me and making me whole, its a kind of ecstasy I never knew I was missing. He slides inside, pushes his thighs flesh with mine, and I’m lost. If he is staring down at me, or smirking up at me, it doesn’t matter. His hands can be in my hair, on my chest, wrapped around my dick, or stroking my cheek softly. Cas can be kissing me sweetly and gently, or fucking me with his tongue in rhythm with the thrusts of his hips, no matter how he does it, I love what it feels like with Cas inside of me. 

Of course, I also like being inside of Cas. 

I like the way his head falls back and his eyes flutter closed as I sink inside, my hands grasping those hips bones and making them mine. I love the way his teeth pull in his bottom lip and I can see indents where he has bitten down too hard. It drives me insane when Cas wraps his legs around my waist and fucks himself onto me as I thrust deeper inside of him. I love the look in his eyes as I make him come, the sound of my name on his tongue. 

I loved Lisa, and I loved having sex with her, but this...this is other worldly. This is pure nirvana, and I couldn’t imagine a life without it now.

 

****

“You could have handled that better.” I say sleepily, my fingers tracing the veins on the back of Cas’ hands. 

“I think I handled you just fine.” Cas shifts beside me, and I can feel his recently flaccid cock dripping slightly onto my knee.

I grunt and roll over to grab a few tissues and hand them to him. “You’re leaking. Prick.”

Cas grunts out a small laugh and takes the tissues. His hands disappear beneath the sheets, and then they are out again, one hand going to my arm and resting there.

“Don’t worry about Gabriel.” Cas says, his eyes soft. “If we let his imagination get the best of him, we will have to clean up the mess he makes in his pants afterwards.”

I roll my eyes and sink on to my back; Cas hand falls to my chest. “How are you so sure this is all...nothing. It could be something, Cas. Something could definitely-”

I cut myself off at the sound of Cas’ phone vibrating in his jeans across the room where we left them. This is the fourth time it has rung tonight, and I am beginning to realize how strange that is. By the time I was done with the cops earlier and relayed the entire story to Cas and Gabe, it was well after nine. It’s going on midnight now, and Charlie wouldn’t call this late.

“Seriously.” I turn to him sharply. “Who even has that number besides us and Charlie?”

Cas face is blank, but I know better than to believe that to be a comforting expression. “Telemarketers.” 

I prop myself up on my elbow, and look down at him His answer his bullshit, and he knows I know it. “Do you know who it is? Is that why you aren’t answering.”

“I know their intention.” Cas says, licking his lips and pulling me down on top of him, trying to distract me. “It isn’t of interest to me.”

“What?” I say harshly, pulling away from Cas and sitting up in bed. I don’t like the idea of Cas hiding things from me. In fact, we had a deal that was exactly what he was not going to do. “Cas, you promised me-”

Cas throws up a hand to silence me and sits up as well. “I know what I said.”

The phone stops vibrating, and I feel a sting of regret for not having jumped out of bed to answer it. I turn to Cas, and pull the sheets around my waist. I don’t need him getting distracted by little Dean right now.

“This isn’t how things work now.” I say it firmly, but keep my voice calm. “You don’t get to do that anymore.”

Cas blinks a few times, and I can practically see the wheels turning in his mind.

This isn't the first time we’ve had this conversation, but its been awhile. 

Right before we went on the road, I told Cas that there could be no secrets between us, at least not with anything major. I don’t need a roadmap of Cas’ mind, but I think I deserve to know what is going on when it comes to stuff that actually matters. 

Whether we use the word or not, Cas and I are in a relationship and I stressed to him that if that was going to continue, I had to trust him. He agreed, for the most part, promising to tell me anything important, and I let it go without clarifying exactly what that meant.

Finally, after Cas eyes me for a long moment and takes a few measured breaths, he leans back against the headboard and looks back over to his crumpled pair of jeans on the floor.

“It’s Hannah.”

“Hannah.” I repeat. “Hannah, the FBI agent, Hannah.”

“If you say her name again will she come out of the mirror and kill us both?” Cas quips, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly.

I ignore him and tilt my head suspiciously. “Why is Hannah calling you, and why are you ignoring her?”

Cas sighs and throws his hands in his lap. “I answered the first time. Didn’t like what she had to say, so I haven't picked up since.”

“What did she say?”

Cas bites the inside of his cheek, something I’ve seen him do only when he is debating whether or not to tell me something. I am about to point this out, when sucks in a harsh breath and lets it out forcefully.

“She wants our help on something, but I told her we weren’t interested.” He sets his jaw in a way that tells me he would rather not elaborate. Sometimes I let him get away with this, depending on what it is we are talking about. I trust Cas, and his judgment, but if the FBI want our help, I want to know why.

“What did she want us to do?” I press.

Cas rolls his eyes and sighs again, an obvious sign of his displeasure at me not letting it go. “Dean, just trust me. We aren’t interested.”

‘You don’t speak for me, Cas.” I counter. “I’ll let you know if I’m interested or not.” I beckon the truth with my fingers and waggle them at Cas. “Out with it already.”

Cas licks his lips and shakes his head. “You’re absolutely insufferable. Why can’t you just-”

“I’m not hearing details, Cas.” I interrupt. I don’t need to bicker about this, I just need Cas to tell me whats going on.

I hear his jaw click as it cocks to the side slightly and he glares at me. It only takes him another moment though, before he is throwing the sheets off of him and he is standing naked in front of me. 

Asshole.

I am careful to keep my expression completely impassive, but do close my eyes when Cas turns around to grab his boxers off the floor. I do the same and meet him at the foot of the bed.

“Come on, Cas.” I say with only a mild amount of whine to it. I take my hand and press it to his bare chest, and Cas’ eyes fall to my fingers splayed out between his nipples. “I need to know I can count on you to be honest, to tell me these things. This isn’t going to work if you feel like you can’t trust me.”

Cas shakes his head and brings his hand up to cover mine. “It isn’t that I don’t trust you. I’m trying to protect you.”

“From what? Lucifer?” 

“No.” Cas takes a step forward, his crystal blue eyes piercing mine. “From yourself.”

The words fall from his mouth gently, like he is trying to comfort himself as well as me.

This doesn’t help me though, and I move closer, putting my hand on Cas’ cheek and forcing his eyes up to mine when he tries to look down. “Just tell me. Please.”

I don’t like knowing there is something I don’t know, especially if it involves Cas and the FBI. If I am going to keep him and Gabe safe, I need to know exactly what is going on.

Cas lets out a shaky breath, and rolls his eyes away from mine. I know this one though, this eye roll is different than the one before. It’s sadder, resigned to what comes next.

“She wants us to help her stop an assassination.”

I am definitely not expecting that, and my hand drops from Cas’ face and falls by my side. Cas takes my hand off his chest and lets it fall as well. 

“What?” 

“There is good information that has Lucifer attempting to kill a congressman at a town meeting next month.”

“A congressman?” I say incredulously. “What the hell-”

“Apparently the guy refused to support an animal protection bill that Lucifer’s people lobbied for. He also has a large stock percentage in one of the countries leading distributors of pork.”

“So that means he gets a bullet in his head?” I almost yell back, but Cas doesn’t even flinch.

“Lucifer has his own brand of justice. You know this.”

I pull my hands to my hips and turn away from Cas. “Son of a bitch.” My eyes roam over the ugly pattern in the motel carpet as I think about what this means. I turn sharply back to Cas when I remember what brought this up. “What does Hannah want us to do?”

“She wants us to come out of hiding, so that Lucifer’s location is pinpointed.”

“Bait.” I say back, with a heavy sigh. “She wants to use us as bait.”

“Yes.” Cas takes a step back and walks over to the mini fridge. He pulls out two bottles of water and throws me one. “Which is why I said no. Gabriel would piss himself, and I don’t want Lucifer anywhere near you.”

I swallow back my reply that I don’t need Cas to protect me, that I am the one who should be protecting him. I know how that conversation would go, and it’s not worth it at the moment.

“Yeah, doesn’t seem like a good idea. There’s no way she can be sure they would catch him before he got to us.”

“Exactly.” Cas says around the opening of his water bottle. “See? I told you we wouldn’t be interested.”

I open my water and take a sip. It is barely cold, the fridge being a piece of shit that has probably been fixed more times than years its been around.

“Doesn’t matter. I still get a chance to make the decision for myself.” I walk back towards the bed, and place the bottle of water on the table next to it. “How long has she been trying to get you to do this?”

Cas shrugs. “About a month after we left.”

“Holy shit.” I sit down on the bed. I narrow my eyes though, and look back at Cas because something about that doesn’t seem right. “Why would she call you four times in one night, if you haven't answered in months?”

Cas shrugs again. “Desperation.”

I shake my head slowly and stare back him. “ I don’t know, something just...doesn’t seem right about that. How does she keep getting your new number? After what happened today, maybe you should at least check the message.”

Cas eyes me for a moment, obviously considering making a joke and blowing it off, but he eventually raises his eyebrows slightly and walks over to his pants. The water bottle gets placed on the floor while Cas digs the cell phone out of his pocket and brings it to his ear.

“Speaker phone.” I say with an annoyed look and Cas gives me an aggravated sigh as he complies.  
The automated message telling Cas he had a message began echoing throughout the room, and Cas punches in his password.

After a moment, Hannah’s voice replaces the automated one, and a chill runs down my entire body at her distressed tone.

“Castiel, please, you have to answer. It’s...it’s your sister, Charlie. There was an attack. Lucifer and his demons they.... Please Castiel, please just call me back.”


	6. Broad Shouldered Beasts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Broad Shouldered Beasts- Mumford and Sons

~Then~

Cas’ face goes completely white. 

I don’t know where the blood goes, but it leave his face like the tsunami of emotions that slam into both of us.

I can feel how wide my eyes are, because its almost painful. Cas just stares down at the phone in his hand, and the automated voice comes back to give him options on what to do with the message.

When he doesn’t move, I take the phone from him and end the call. I search for the last number and call it.

Hannah’s voice comes ringing in my ear on the first ring, she sounds out of breath, but there is clearly relief there as well.

“Castiel, thank god.” 

“It’s Michael.” I say, remembering to use my pseudonym at the last second.

“Where is Castiel?” Her voice returns to is distressed state and I turn away from Cas, who is still standing stock still, looking like he is about to pass out. “And Dean, I’m FBI; I know your real name.

“He, uh, can’t talk right now.” I say quickly, ignoring the rest of the comment. “What happened to Charlie? Is she okay?”

“I, uh,” Hannah begins, and I can hear the apprehension in her voice. “She’s in critical condition. We have her at a private hospital, so she won’t be found.” I can hear noises in the background that could definitely be that of medical workers doing their jobs. 

“What happened?” I yell into the phone, walking swiftly to the shared wall between our room and Gabe’s and banging on it loudly three times. This seems to pull Cas out of his fugue state and he rushes towards me.

“Gas line explosion.” Hannah says quickly. “They-

Cas pulls the phone from my hand and brings it to his ear. “What? They- Yes. Tell me what happened.”

Gabe is at the door a moment later, sleep in his eyes and a robe barely covering the bottom half of his body. “What?”

I hold up my hand to silence him and gesture towards Cas, who has begun pacing the room.

“When?” Cas says into the phone. “Will she-”

“Fuck!” Cas yells and runs his hand through his hair. “Yeah, we’re on our way.”

He ends the call, and then his phone is flying across the room and slamming into the wall. It breaks in dozens of pieces and falls to the ground.

“What the hell-” Gabe says with wide eyes, no trace of tiredness in his eyes now.

“Charlie.” I say, moving to Cas and placing my hand on his back, only to have him shrug me off and disappear into the bathroom. “I don’t know exactly, but Lucifer put her in the hospital. She’s not doing well.”

The words barely make it out of my mouth, because my lips are trembling and my eyes are blurry with tears. “Bastard.” I say with a shake of my head, and wipe away my tears aggressively.

Gabe just stares at me, and I can see his chest rising and falling at a quickened rate. “Charlie?” He whispers. “Not Charlie...no.” His head is shaking, like if he doesn’t believe it, it won’t be true.

I understand that. 

I don’t want to believe it either. 

Of all the people Lucifer could use to get to us, he picked the perfect one.

I try to hold on to the fact that she isn’t dead, that Charlie is currently fighting and if anyone is strong enough to tell death to go fuck itself, its Charlie Bradbury.

I hear Cas throwing things around in the bathroom, and I’m vaguely aware that he is probably packing things up. I give Gabe a sympathetic look and turn to grab my clothes off the floor and put them on. “Go get your stuff. We leave in ten.”

Gabe doesn’t move, just nods his head absently.

It occurs to me that maybe this moment is hitting Gabe even harder, since he lost his own sister to Lucifer not even a year ago. I finish pulling on my clothes and walk over to him. I place my hands on his shoulder and look down at him, leaning my head in slightly to force him to look up at me.

“Hey, it’s going to be alright. She is going to be fine. She will.” I say it so maybe my words will convince me as well, and pull Gabe towards me to hug him. I feel him wrap his arms around my waist after a moment, and I squeeze him tightly. “We aren’t going to let him get to her again.”  
I pull back, but keep my hands on his shoulders. Cas comes out of the bathroom then, and I hear him behind me throwing things into his duffle bag. “We need to get to leave though, if we are going to do that.”

Gabe looks past me at Cas, and I turn my head to follow his gaze. Cas is zipping up his duffle roughly, his eyes bloodshot and waves of fury flying off of him. Gabe gives me a cautious look, and I give him one of determination in return. “Go, we’ll be fine.”

Gabe pauses another moment, but I let my hands drop and take a step back. He takes it as his cue, and walks out of the room, his head hanging low as he does.

I swallow hard and try to prepare for whatever Cas throws at me. When I turn around to face him though, he is in the middle of furiously packing my bag but stops when he feels my eyes on him. I can tell he is avoiding looking at me, just as he does whenever he is trying to hide his emotions, but I walk over to him anyway. 

I turn his body to face mine, press my lips to his.

It’s probably not what most people would do, but its all I can think of. I don’t know if it’s what he needs, but it is what I need. I feel like my heart was just pushed through a meat grinder, and I need comfort. I want Cas’ arms around me and I want him to tell me that everything is going to be fine.

Of course, it’s _Cas’_ sister that was hurt though, and no matter how much I love Charlie, he is the one who is hurting most in this moment.

The kiss chaste, Cas’ lips stiff against my own until I feel tears rolling from his face onto mine and then his kiss gets softer. I can feel his chin quivering, and I pull him hard against me, running my hand through his hair and behind his neck. “She is going to be fine.” I whisper. I pull my head back just enough to rest our foreheads together, and Cas leans in closer to me. “And Lucifer will pay for what he did.”

At that, Cas lifts his head from mine and looks at me warily. I set my jaw to tell him there would be no negotiation here, and that we are going to help Hannah because it is the only way we know how get the mother fucker that did this to Charlie, but I don’t have to say a word. 

After just a moment, Cas nods his head in agreement and pulls away. 

We don’t say another word until we are on the road back home.

 

****

Driving on a long car trip with Cas and Gabe is probably one of lesser known circles of hell.  
The bickering is both entertaining and endless. 

Gabe will make a joke about Cas’ driving, or the way Cas chews his Nicorette. He will liken Cas’ music selections to that of a depressed teenage girl, or a homeless man just wanting something to listen to. 

Cas, on the other hand, says nearly nothing in return, but occasionally comes back with a sharp jab at Gabe’s clothing or chosen hairstyle. Sometimes he will put more effort into it and I will get some pretty incredible back stories from when they used to work together. Things like Gabe’s penchance for white lacy thongs or the time he was so drunk he didn’t realize the dick he was sucking through a glory hole in a bathroom stall was actually a dildo. Cas found him going to town on it while a group of guys laughed their asses off with camera phones recording him from above.

I begged Cas for a copy, but he claims he doesn’t own one.

No matter how much they fight though, I know how much they care for each other. 

I see it in the way Gabe covers Cas with his jacket when it’s Cas’ turn to sleep in the backseat. I see it the he way Cas goes out of his way to find that stupid red tea Gabe goes gaga for. They may fight and annoy the crap out of each other, but I have a feeling those two couldn’t live without each other at this point in their relationship. 

Cas may make jokes about getting Gabe to join us in the bedroom, but I know Cas doesn’t see him that way. 

To me, Gabe is my friend, probably my best friend next to Charlie. I really like the guy, maybe even bordering on love, on the days he doesn’t make me want to strangle him. He makes me laugh, and he has a good heart.

Cas though, I think he sees Gabe as a brother; someone he didn’t ask for, but someone he would undoubtedly die for. 

It’s an interesting dynamic, especially when paired with me and Cas’ relationship, but it works. 

The three of us, we work.

Just like how we argued or laughed our way through every state on the drive out west six months ago, it’s now understood that our way back home to Charlie will have neither.

We’ve been on the road nearly twenty-four hours, and the only words spoken have been perfunctory. We take turns sleeping in the back, and make as little stops as possible. 

We would be back in Lewes in just a few hours, but Charlie was moved to a hospital in New Jersey, so we are headed there instead.

By the time we make it through Pennsylvania and cross the New Jersey line, the car has begun to take on the funk each of us are generating. 

“Maybe we should take a shower before we see her.” Gabe says from the back seat. “Wouldn’t want one of you to hug her and send her over the edge.”

Cas gives Gabe a cold expression from the passenger seat and looks down at the map. “Perhaps you would like to stop for some tact, as well.”

I hear Gabe suck in a surprised breath, but he expels it in a soft chuckle. “Look at you, schooling me on proprieties. My how times have changed.” Gabe claps me on the shoulder and leans in behind me as I drive. “You’re turning him into a real boy, Dean-o.”

I smile softly and glance in Cas’ direction, whose eyes are still glued to the map in his lap. “I wouldn’t worry Gabe, Cas is still the same asshole he has always been. Maybe you’re just a shittier person now.”

“Ah.” I see Gabe nod and sit back in his seat. “That would explain it.”

Cas pulls his cell phone from the console and dials a number.

“Hannah.” Cas’ voice is rougher than usual. “How is she?”

It’s only been an hour since the last time Cas called to check on Charlie, but I know it’s the only thing he can do to keep himself calm, and I want updates just as badly.

“I thought she wasn’t scheduled for another surgery until tomorrow?” He almost shouts this, and there is panic laced in every word.

“When will we know-” Cas is cut off, and I look back and forth between him and the road to watch his expressions while he listens to Hannah.

“Fine.” He sighs and throws his head back against he head rest. “About two hours.”

“Okay.” Cas hangs up, and tosses the phone on the seat between us. “She is going in for another surgery, her lung collapsed.”

I hear Gabe gasp from the backseat, and my mouth goes dry. “How..how bad is that?” I ask quietly.

“Not as bad as it sounds.” Cas answers, “But its certainly not good. They will have to wait for the surgery on her leg until she is strong enough.”

I nod slowly, absorbing this information.

According to Hannah, Charlie was in the coffee shop when it happened. A gas line was cut, and someone threw in a flaming bottle. Thankfully, Charlie was in the back, heading towards the alley to take out the trash. She was thrown ten feet through the door and against the brick wall of the building behind the coffee shop. She suffered second degree burns, some sort of head injury, a ruptured spleen, six broken ribs, and one broken femur.

And now, apparently, a collapsed lung.

“Shit.” I whisper, before pulling myself together and reaching out a hand to Cas’ thigh. He doesn’t take it, but allows me to keep it there. “Okay. It’s going to be okay. Charlie’s-”

“I know what she is!” Cas snaps back, looking out the side window.

“Hey now,” I hear Gabe pipe in from the backseat, and I desperately want to tell him how much I don't want him to defend me, but he keeps going before I get a chance. “Dean is just trying to help Cassie, no need to bite his head off.”

“It’s okay.” I say firmly. I squeeze Cas thigh to let him know that it was, in deed, okay, and that I understand. That’s what happens when someone you love is hurt, you get angry, you lash out. I won’t hold that against him. 

I don’t want to crowd him, so I begin to pull my hand back. Cas’ hand stops me though, and I feel his soft palm fall heavy over my fingers, and his own fingers latching around mine. 

It’s a simple gesture, but I know what it means.


	7. Keep Breathing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keep Breathing- I the Mighty

I wasn’t prepared for the way I would feel walking through a hospital again.

This one is nothing like the one Lisa died in, and yet it is exactly the same. 

This one is much smaller, reserved only for very important people who pay out of pocket to have it run, but it’s size does nothing to deter my immediate hatred of it. 

The floors are patterned similarly to the ones I walked daily while Lisa fell in and out of comas. They have lines on the floor that lead to different sections of the hospital, and I remember what it felt like to follow those lines to my dying wife. 

Now I follow them to Charlie, who absolutely, is _not_ dying.

There are less doctors and nurses populating the hallways as Cas leads us through them, but they wear the same expressions the ones in the other hospital did. 

Their faces are cold and impassive, usually looking down at a clipboard until they look up and paste on a fake smile. I know its fake because it never reaches their eyes. 

These people, they’ve seen to much to smile for real, not here at least.

I hear Gabe shuffling behind me, and part of me wants to link all three of our hands, but I stop myself because I am pretty sure I’d never live it down.

Up ahead, I see Hannah sitting in a chair outside of what is presumably CHarlie’s hospital room.

Cas completely ignores her as we approach, and turns into Charlie’s room without a word.

“She isn’t back yet.” I hear Hannah say, but I still follow Cas inside the room. 

There is an elderly woman in a hospital bed on the far side of the room, next to a wide window with blue curtains pulled closed. She is asleep, or in a coma maybe, with a tube down her throat. There’s a large soft brown wooden door on the wall opposite the space where Charlie’s bed should be. From my excessive time spent in the hospital, I know that door leads to a bathroom that has a toilet, sink, mirror, and a pull cord for emergencies. The last one I will always be grateful for, ever since my wife had a bad vomiting episode that led to a seizure right there on the bathroom floor. 

I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared, watching my wife seize and buck wilding in my arms. It was towards the end, once the cancer had spread to her brain and everything was falling apart so quickly. It was horrible, but I had enough sense to pull the cord, and nurses came running in to help. The memory isn’t like a video I can watch on repeat, thankfully, more like a blurry watercolor that buzzes in and out of my mind from time to time. 

I can see flashes of it now as I walk further into Charlie’s hospital room, and I bite the inside of my cheek to take my mind off of it.

“She is out of surgery.” Hannah says from behind us. “They just haven’t brought her back from post-op yet.”

Cas turns sharply and charges towards Hannah, whose eyes go wild as Cas barrels into her. 

I am so shocked, I don’t react until Cas has Hannah up against the wall, his forearm pressing into her throat.

“Castiel!” Hannah chokes out. “Stop!”

Gabe jumps forward before I can, and tries to pull Cas off, but Cas shoves him away and Gabe goes flying backward. I catch him before he can get to far, and steady him.

“Cas!” I say, walking around a wide--eyed Gabe, and rushing to Cas’ side. “Stop it, let her go!”

“ _You!_ ” Cas yells. “You were supposed to watch her! You said you’d keep her safe!”

I pull at Cas shoulders, and when he swings his arm back to push me away, I am prepared for it. I lock my arm around his elbow, pulling his arm behind his back and snake my other up and around to pull Cas’ forearm off of Hannah’s throat. He struggles only for a second, before I feel him relax and allow himself to be pulled back. 

Hannah coughs and sputters while I turn Cas towards me and take his face into my hands.   
“You good?” I say quietly, willing him to keep it together.

Cas says nothing. I can feel him tensing his jaw beneath my fingers, but he eventually blinks and nods curtly.

“I tried,” Hannah hoarsely. “It’s not like I can afford to put a man on her all the time. We checked in often, stayed out of sight like you requested, but there is only so much we can do.” I can hear the sincerity in her voice, and feel kind of bad for the quick rush of enjoyment I got when Cas assaulted her. 

It’s not that I hate Hannah, I’m sure I’d even like her under different circumstances. She seems nice, and aside from this slip up, fairly decent at her job. It’s just the whole fucking my boyfriend thing that kind of gets under my skin from time to time.

Not that Cas is my boyfriend.  
Cas turns slowly towards her, and I think maybe he might lunge towards her again, but instead, he opens his mouth to speak.

“What do you know?” His voice is harsh, but controlled, almost like he is trying desperately to remove any emotion at all, and not quite accomplishing it.

Hannah straights the lapels of her black tailored suit jacket, and looks down at the pants that match. She is fidgeting, which is definitely not a good sign.

“Not much.” She lifts her eyes to Cas’ and then looks at me. “The line had to have been cut sometime between when she closed and opened the next morning. My guess is closer to the morning, or someone would have complained about smelling gas on that street. We are looking through footage of a surveillance camera set up at the gas station across the street. One of the camera’s faces the coffee shop.”

“Anyone get a look at who threw the bottle?” Gabe asks.

“The agent in the field at the time says he saw a woman with dark hair running away from the scene as he ran towards the back to get to Charlie. She was petite, long dark hair, wearing a black leather jacket.”

“Meg.” I say under my breath. “That bitch.”

Cas nods absently next to me, and I try to reign in my anger, not wanting to set him off again. I see him tense suddenly next to me though, and his eyes narrow at the doorway.

When I turn to look at what caused his reaction, my blood runs cold in my veins.

The man is dressed much differently than the first time I met him. His worn jeans and white t-shirt have been replaced with a sharp looking suit and a dark blue tie. There are black, nice looking boots on his feet instead of the workers boots he wore before. 

He looks nervous for a second as we make eye contact, but then his chin lifts and his chest broadens, as if preparing for _my_ blow up.

It’s Zeke.

***  
Apparently, Cas recognizes him too, because he is stepping forward and walking closer to him. Zeke stands his ground, but I can see intimidation in his stance.

Cas stops just a foot shy of Zeke and looks between him and Hannah once.

“How long?” He asks. This isn’t exactly a question I am expecting, but then again, Cas has never been one to explain his train of thought as it moves.  
Hannah seems to understand him though, because she ducks her head slightly. “Since you left.”

“What?” Gabe asks next to me, and looks to me for an answer, since Cas is still staring Zeke down. I don’t know how to answer him, so I just shrug, but my brain starts to connect some pieces of the puzzle.

“Clever.” Cas says, putting his hands on his hips and taking a step back. He turns back around and walks towards the window. “Very clever.”

“What’s clever?” Gabe asks again, this time with much more frustration in his voice. “What in the hell is going on?”

Cas says nothing, just pulls the window curtain back slightly and peers outside.

“Agent Gadreel, along with a number of other agents have been keeping track of you all since you left six months ago.” Hannah answers, pulling at her blazer again. “We wanted to make sure we were nearby in case Lucifer showed up.”

I had pretty much already figured out that Zeke wasn’t who he said he was before I even left that house the other day, but an FBI agent wasn’t something I had considered. My hands tense beside me, and I take a step closer. I keep my eyes hard on the man I knew as Zeke and now know as Agent Gadreel.

“Those people? How do they fit in to this?” I ask harshly. “Did they die because of...whatever this is?”

“Yes.” Agent Gadreel answered in a calculated tone. “There was a note at the scene, that indicated it was staged for you to find.” He pulls something from his pocket, and my stomach flips in my abdomen.

It’s a white piece of paper, folded twice. “We’ve already dusted it for prints, it’s clean.” The man holds it out for me to take, and I pause just a second before I slip my fingers around it.

The fact that those people died because of me, has me wanting to curl into a ball and slide under the covers of the old woman’s hospital bed, but I stay in place and pull the paper from the agents hands. I feel Gabe come in closer, a show of support I suppose, and I am grateful for the gesture. 

I look over my shoulder at Cas, who is still standing in front of the window and looking out at it absently. Although, I know better than to think Cas isn’t thinking furiously over what all of this means. If he hasn't figured it out already. The fact that Cas isn't standing over my other shoulder to read the note though, tell me he most likely knows what will be found inside.

I unfold it carefully, like its crepe paper and I have talons instead of paper.

When it is open, and there are words staring up at me, waiting to be read, my eyes close instinctively.

I don’t want to read it, not if it is confirmation that those two people died to send us a message. I hear Gabe suck in a breath next to me though, and push myself to open my eyes again. I take a deep breath, and begin to read.

_Don’t mourn their deaths, they were not as they seemed._

_The man killed animals as a child, and the woman routinely purchases items that require the death of innocent animals._

_They were not good people, and justice was served._

_You believe in justice, do you not? Bad people getting what's coming to them?_

_That is all I do. That is the mission Castiel lost, but I see it in you. I saw fire in your eyes Dean, I saw your will to do the right thing back at that farm._

_You just need to shift your priorities. You need to see the grander picture, the true evil that lies within this world. Helping the helpless, fighting for their rights, that is all I am doing._

_That is the mission, Dean._

_And it’s the mission that matters. Never forget that._

 

_Say hello to Castiel and Gabriel for me, although I suspect to see you all very soon._   
_You have my sympathies regarding your injured friend, I hear she met a bit of trouble at work this morning. It may be a good idea to check in with me soon, just to avoid similar future incidents._

_-L_

 

I read it three times.

When I’m finished, and my eyes are just burning holes into the single letter that signs the notes, I feel Gabe pulling the note from my hand and walking back towards Castiel. I don’t turn around, in fact, my hands stay right where they were when they were holding the paper. It takes me a full thirty seconds to realize I no longer need to be holding my hands up.

They drop to my sides, and I look up to the man who had stolen it from the crime scene.

“What does it mean?” I manage to get out. “And why did you take it?”

“The local police do not need to get involved in this.” Hannah cuts in, shaking her head and crossing her arms. “They’re presence would only make things more difficult. Although they do know something is up, because I had to call in and tell them to remove you from the witness list.”

“What?” 

“I told them you were under witness protection, and that if they have any further questions for you to contact me first and I would relay them.” 

I shift my weight, and feel my shoulders sag. “Uh, okay.”

“As for your first question.” Agent Gadreel begins, “It seems, Lucifer has shifted his focus from Castiel on to you.”

I hear foot steps behind me, and know Cas is at my side without having to look in that direction. He holds the paper out for the agent to take it back, and he does so. 

“Why?” I ask, “Does he actually think I would ever join him?”

“Yes.” Cas says quietly. “Given the right pressure.”

“No.” I say quickly. “I would never, he has to know that. That makes zero sense.”

Cas shrugs beside me, and walks off again. I turn towards his direction and watch as he picks up the chart of the elderly woman. He begins flipping through it, and I sigh loudly. 

This is definitely not time for his trademark stoicism. 

Cas gives me a look out of the corner of his eye and purses his lips together, before putting the chart back. 

“He knows he’s lost me and Gabriel. But he believes he saw something in you, that could be useful to him.” Cas walks slowly back towards me. “And if given the right set of parameters, it is possible you would go to him.”

I start shaking my head, wanting to make it blatantly obvious how I ridiculous that sounds to me. I would absolutely never work with Lucifer. I am not a murderer, I am not that kind of person. I may have darkness, I may have parts of me that sometimes threaten to escape, but I couldn’t imagine living the life Lucifer apparently is planning out for me.

I am about to say as much, when I hear movement behind me.

A nurse and an orderly are pushing a bed into the room, and my heart leaps into my throat and silences me. 

Charlie lays unconscious in the bed, and we all move out of the way so her bed can be placed in position next to the monitors.

Gilda and Dorothy come in behind the bed, and both of them are immediately swept into Cas and Gabe’s arms. 

I can hear Cas murmuring in Dorothy’s hair, and I watch Gabe rub Gilda’s back softly.

I approach them at first, but then decide against it and turn back to Charlie.

“There is too many people in here.” The nurse says. “Some of you need to go back to the waiting room. She wont be up for another couple hours anyway.”

The nurses tone leaves something to be desired, and I am about to tell her to shove it when Agent Gadreel pulls his badge out of his pocket.

“I’m Agent Gadreel, this is Agent Johnson, we’re with the FBI and would appreciate letting these people have their moment with their friend.”

The nurse gives him an unimpressed look as she hooks Charlie up to the machines. “Listen buddy, I don’t care if you are King of the world. You got one minute, then its down to two at a time. Got it?”

Agent Gadreel furrows his brow slightly, and awkwardly replaces his badge into his suit jacket. “Um, yes. Alright.”

I step forward, wanting to at least get a better look at Charlie before I would have to go.

She lays slightly propped up on the left side, and I can see bandages running down her entire left side. She has a hospital gown draped over sensitive areas, but most of her body is covered in white bandages. The blanket only goes to her thighs, where two casts begin. The one on the right side only goes to her ankle, but the one of the left side covers all of her foot as well. She has a pink fuzzy sock on the foot without a cast, and my hand immediately goes out to it. I grip her foot softly, unsure if it would hurt her or not, but needing to touch her.

I feel Cas come up beside me, and watch as he takes in his sisters state. I put my hand on his back, and rub softly. Gabe stands on the opposite side, tears running down his face. It takes me a moment, but I quickly realize I’ve got tears in my eyes as well, and wipe them away. 

Charlie’s face is covered in bruises on the left side, and there is bandages around her head. There are burns on some of the exposed skin, and I feel like maybe I could throw up.

Cas leans down and kisses a uninjured spot of skin on Charlie’s forehead, and the gesture causes my chin to quiver slightly. I pull my bottom lip into my mouth, and bite down.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

Not to Charlie. 

_Never_ Charlie.


End file.
